Breathless
by TheDutchDreamer
Summary: Matthew Williams went into a coma after he was hit by a truck. While being in his coma he relives his times with his boyfriend Francis Bonnefoy. Meanwhile Francis is breaking down in the fear that Matthew will never wake up again. Human AU. Franada. With a few other side ships. Possible character death in later chapters so you're warned. And possible grammar fails...
1. Chapter 1

The blond young man opened his eyes as a drop of water fell on his face. He had been lying in an open spot in the forest. The trees were standing in some sort of circle. It had an almost magical feeling to it. Like the secret place he always wanted as a child. He sighed as he stared at the cloudy air. It was going to rain soon. But he didn't want to leave, it was so nice here. He wished he could stay there forever. He closed his eyes again. Lying here in the rain was an option. It wasn't like there was anyone waiting at home for him after all. Well, that wasn't exactly true, there was Kumajiro, his pet bear. But the white bear wouldn't mind it if he would stay away a little longer. As long as Matthew would come home before dinnertime everything would be fine. Matthew Williams, that was his name. He had the family name from his mother. Since his father left them right after he was born. Matthew knew that he had an older brother. He had never really seen him, he didn't even know his name. His father had taken his brother with him and left Matthew and his mother alone. If he would accidently meet them on the street he wouldn't recognise them. It sounded so horrible. He folded his hands on his stomach. A tear rolled down from the corner of his eye. Sometimes he wished that his mother was still with him. If he would have thoughts like this, then she would hug him. Telling him stories about his grandparents, about all the other family members he had. Until he wouldn't feel alone anymore. He sighed, the rain was pouring over his face now. Or were that tears? It didn't matter anyway. He would stay in the open spot, lying on the grass as the rain soaked through his clothes. He laid there for a while until it stopped raining right above his face. The rest of his body was still lying in the rain, while his face wasn't… that's not normal. He opened one eye and saw another blond man. The face of the stranger was hanging right above his and had an expression that he didn't really get. A bit curious, but also… flirty? Provocative?

"_Bonjour, mon beau petit étranger, why is such a beautiful young man like you lying alone in the rain?"_

A Frenchman? Matthew blinked a few times before his body finally decided to move and he jumped up, accidently giving the stranger a headbutt. His eyes widened as the man fell down on the grass.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't want to… I-I…" He offered his hand so that he could help the Frenchman stand up. The man was wearing a blue jacket with a white blouse and black jeans. He had a huge umbrella with him but it was lying a few meters away now. His eyes were blue and he had long blond hair, which was bounded back with a red ribbon. So beautiful… Matthew couldn't help but stare at the other.

"_It's okay." _The man accepted his hand and stood up. _"What's your name, mon chéri?"_

"Matthew Williams." He mumbled as he picked up the others umbrella and handed it to him.

"_Ah, well, bonjour Matthieu. I'm Francis Bonnefoy. Nice to meet you" _Francis took Matthew's hand and placed a kiss on it. Matthew blushed a bit, was this the normal way of saying hello for Frenchmen? _"If I may ask again, Matthieu, why were you lying alone in the rain?" _

Matthew bit on his lip. "I don't know… there isn't really a reason. I was lying there before it started raining, and I just stayed there…" He stared at the ground.

"_C'est un peu étrange, non?" _

Matthew didn't say anything. He could almost feel the other observing him. He could feel how Francis looked from his hair to his face to his… everything. He was standing a bit uncomfortably close for his liking too. That was because the Frenchman apparently decided to share the umbrella, which was pretty useless since they both were soaked by now. Matthew more than Francis though, but still, soaked.

"You're also alone here… in the rain."

Francis chuckled a bit. _ "Oui, but I wasn't lying on the ground, enjoying getting soaked." _

Matthew tried to smile but it didn't really make himself feel better. "I have to go now, ehm, I'm sorry for wasting your time. It was nice to meet you." He quickly turned around and walked away. This was so awkward… Francis had been really nice and he just turned around and walked away. The Frenchman was actually the first person that had 'started' a conversation with him. He usually was kind of ignored. Though he doubted anyone wouldn't have talked to a person lying completely alone in the rain on the ground. He stopped walking as he felt a hand grabbing his wrist, making him stand still. He heard that the Frenchman let a deep sigh and he felt the umbrella being pushed into his hand. He turned around and looked at Francis a bit confused.

"_Take the umbrella, you've been in the rain for long enough mon chéri."_

The Canadian stared at the umbrella in his hand. "But it's yours…" He wanted to give it back. Tell Francis that he didn't need an umbrella. But something in the other's eyes told him that he should keep it. He nodded and smiled at him. "Thank you very much, Francis."

"_No problem, mon petit lapin." _He blew him a hand kiss, turned around and walked away. _ "Au revoir, it was a pleasure to meet you, Matthieu."_

Matthew just stood there for a while. There was something so intriguing about the Frenchman. He shook his head and looked at the sky. It had just stopped raining… the umbrella was even more useless now. He sighed and walked away, dragging the umbrella with him.

When he came home he placed the umbrella against the wall. He took of his shoes and jacket. Then he walked to his living room. Matthew lived in a small apartment. There was a bathroom, a kitchen and the living room. He slept in the living room on the couch. It was one of those sleep couches. This morning he hadn't folded the bed in the couch, so it was pretty messy now. He looked around and saw that Kumajiro was sleeping on the bed. The Canadian sat down and petted the bear for a few seconds. Then he closed his eyes. He was tired. The dark fog of the unconscious floated through his head, and before he knew it he had fallen in a deep sleep.

~

A middle aged blond man was sitting in a white hospital room. He stared at the person in the hospital bed with a sad smile. His boyfriend was in coma. The only boyfriend that stayed with him for more than a month. The one that he had been with for more than ten years now. The only one that he really loved. That cute shy Canadian that somehow seemed to be ignored by everyone. Today was the anniversary of the time that they met each other. He lightly squeezed the others hand.

"_Please wake up, mon petit lapin…"_

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, ehm, if you find grammar fails or other things like that then don't be afraid to point them out to me. English isn't my first language and I'm not sure if my program picked out all the faults. Critics and such is welcome, but this is my first fanfiction, so please be gentle 3 **

**Translations (Though I think you could guess them anyway… ) :**

_**Mon beau petit étranger = my beautiful little stranger**_

_**C'est un peu étrange, non ? **__**= that's a bit strange, right?**_

_**Mon petit lapin = my little rabbit. **_

**This will be a multi-chaptered story, if I ever get my lazy ass so far to write the next chapter… **


	2. Chapter 2

Francis Bonnefoy sighed as he walked quickly through the streets of the city. He was on his way to the hospital and the visitor hour almost started. He wanted to be there as fast as possible. He brushed his hair out of his face and lit up a cigarette. When Matthew was just in the hospital he only visited him five times a week. Nowadays he visited him twice a day. He had given up his job as chef haute cuisine in a four stars restaurant just to visit his barely alive boyfriend that often. Now he was selling hotdogs in the snack bar close to the hospital. And it disgusted him. The food he sold now was made without any bit of love. But it was all for his Matthew. Because he often was waiting for the visitor hour to start, he knew every nurse in the hospital by now. They called him the 'faithful boyfriend'. And exactly that name hurt him the most. He was everything but a 'faithful boyfriend'. He looked at the ground as he took larger steps, wishing that he would arrive at the hospital already. It was practically his fault that his beloved was in the hospital now. It had been seven months ago, the memories were still so fresh. He wanted to ban them out of his head. But they kept following him in everything he did and thought. He had cheated on Matthew. With some British guy whose name he didn't even know. The Frenchman didn't remember why he had done that. Had he been drunk? He had so much regret that it ate him from inside. The morning Matthew had discovered it, he hadn't yelled at him, he hadn't said that it was over. He hadn't said a word. No, he had only looked at him with those big sad eyes. Matthew's facial expression had told Francis that he was so disappointed in him. Then Matthew had walked away, out of the house. Francis had followed him, he had seen the truck coming as his Canadian crossed the road. He had yelled that Matthew should watch out for it. The slightly younger man had turned around. Francis had seen the surprised and hurt face that he made as the truck hit his body. He had heard the scream. Seen how the motionless body of his boyfriend laid on the side of the road. And the worst thing was that he could have saved him. If he hadn't been such a wimp and acted faster, he could have pushed Matthew away and saved him. But he wasn't that brave, no, not at all. After the accident he had started to smoke more. He knew it wasn't good but it helped him containing his usual positive and 'happy' self a bit. He stopped for the red traffic light. The hospital was around the corner so he would be with Matthew soon. He smiled. He knew that when you were in a coma you could hear what the people around you said. He could tell him how Kumajiro was doing. Francis had taken care of the annoying bear all this time. The light turned green and he crossed the road. Soon he could hold Matthew's hand again.

~

Light shone through the curtains from the Canadians apartment. Matthew curled up in the sheets of his bed as he sent a quick glance at his alarm clock. It was still early, he didn't have to get out of his bed yet. He closed his eyes and continued to sleep.

He woke up again as he felt something weird by his hand. It was almost as if someone was gnawing on it. He pushed himself straight up and looked at his right hand. Finding Kumajiro there, indeed gnawing on his hand. Oh, Kuma was trying to eat his hand… Meh, not important. He rubbed in his eyes with his left hand. Then he stared at Kuma and his brain started to work.

"Kumajuju! That's disgusting what are you doing?!" He yelled as he pulled his hand away.

The young man looked at his hand. There were some bite marks and it was drenched in the saliva from his pet bear. He climbed out of the bed and stumbled to the kitchen to wash his hands. "Kuma, what's wrong with you?" He sighed asking the bear as it started gnawing at his foot. Matthew looked at him. He was probably hungry. He threw a glance at the clock. 10 am, he was late for work! Matthew opened some canned food and quickly shoved the content of it in Kumajiro's feeding dish. "Sorry, but I can't make pancakes now." He apologized to the bear. He stuffed a slice of bread in his mouth and tried to find his pants. He was a simple cashier at the second-hand bookstore a few streets away. He loved his job, it wasn't like he was so interested in the books, or that he earned so much money by working there. But the types of people that came there to buy books were so different from all the others. It was so much fun to give those people, who desperately had paved their way through all the other bookstores trying to find that one book, the thing they wanted. Seeing their happy faces, because their seemingly endless search had ended, was priceless.

He pulled on his shoes on and made his way to the front door. He didn't look out and tripped over something in his rush. Something that didn't belong there. He turned around and saw a big, open umbrella lying in the middle of his hallway. Then he remembered. He stared at the umbrella as his mind sent him images of the Frenchman that had given it to him. That had been two days ago. He'd almost forgotten about it. He picked up the umbrella and wanted to close it. But then his eye fell on something that was scribbled on the inside of the umbrella. First there was a number, he recognised it as a phone number. Under the phone number was written: '_appelez-moi'._ A small rose was drawn beneath it. The number must have been the Frenchman's phone number. But why would he write that on an umbrella? Matthew shook his head, closed the umbrella and placed it in the corner where he usually put his shoes. This way he wouldn't forget it. After he was done with work he planned to call Francis, to tell him that he still had the umbrella. They could meet somewhere so that he could give it back. Yeah, that was a nice excuse to see him again…

Matthew opened his front door after a long day working. Did he say this morning that he loved his work because of the people? Hah, what a joke. It had been really quiet today. Except five minutes before his shift was over. An angry looking Italian had barged into the small shop and demanded that he should find a book about the 'history of tomatoes'. The angry one also had a happy Italian with him. This one told him that his brother searched it for his Spanish boyfriend. Which the angry one yelled at that he wasn't his boyfriend. Matthew had searched for it in the archives but he hadn't been able to find it. He wondered if it even existed. When he told the Italian that he couldn't find it and that he doubted about the existence, the angry one pouted, mumbled something about 'useless bastard' and walked away. The happy one ran after him and yelled that 'fratello shouldn't be sad, because they would find it in another store'. These Italians had made him work overtime, which he really wasn't amused about. They probably had been doing nothing this whole day and right before he wanted to close the shop they had decided to search for the non-existing book. He sighed and kicked off his shoes. Then he saw the umbrella that he laid there this morning. Oh, he should call Francis… He opened the umbrella, dialled the number and clicked on 'call'. He waited a few seconds until the phone on the other side was picked up.

"_Bonjour, with whom have I honour to speak?"_ Said a voice through the phone.

Matthew bit on his lip. It was really Francis. Suddenly he was overcome by fear. What if the Frenchman had forgotten him? Or maybe he would think that he was some weird stalker… He wished that he would have thought about what to say before he decided to call.

"_Who am I speaking with?" _

Matthew took a deep breath before he said something. "H-hi Francis. I still have your umbrella…" He wanted to bang his head against the wall, now he really sounded like a stalker. "I'm Matthew, Matthew Williams… I met you in the forest and you gave me your umbrella."

For a few seconds Francis was silent, then he spoke.

"_Ah, Matthieu! How are you, mon chéri?"_

Matthew smiled, he could feel himself glow warm from inside. Francis had remembered him!

"I'm fine, thank you. Eh, I found your phone number in the umbrella and I thought I should call you so that I can give the umbrella back."

"_Oui, how does tomorrow sound? At five pm before the gates of the rose park?" _

Matthew nodded, but then he remembered that Francis couldn't see that. So he said yes and then they said goodbye. Matthew hung up and leaned against the wall. He shoved down along it until he sat on the ground. He would meet Francis again, at the rose park. It almost sounded like a date. He closed his eyes and held the umbrella in his hands. He was so happy. He sat there for a while until Kumajiro roughly pulled him out his daydreaming. Looking at him with a face that made clear that the bear wanted pancakes, and that he wouldn't take no for an answer.

~

"Bonjour Matthieu," Francis said to his Canadian that lay before him on the hospital bed. He felt the glances from the nurses pierce through his body. Most of them were staring at him. It surprised the Frenchman that they weren't eating popcorn with it, as if they're watching some terrible 'romantic' movie. "You're still as beautiful as ever." His lips curled into a slight smile, but his eyes were still sad. "Kumajiro is doing fine, he starts eating the pancakes I make for him. Though he still doesn't want to eat my other food." Francis scratched the back of his head. "… Mon petit lapin." He sighed and stroked the Canadians cheek. "How are you?" He always asked this question, but he was still waiting for an answer.

* * *

**A/N: Oh look how fast I am! Wow, I love being bored, I get productive from it. Or at least I feel like I'm fast... Hehe, reviews/critics (whatever you want to call it) are welcome! They make me grin like a psycho murderer, and hey, who doesn't want to grin like that.**

**I got some reviews from the first chapter and they were really nice, but I don't know if I should say thank you because I'm that awkward and new to writing fanfiction. So if I should have responded to them, thank you?**

**Appelez-moi**** = Call me **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This chapter took me way too long. I hope you guys haven't already forgotten about this fanfic… I changed a few things in the last chapters. However, that's not really relevant for the story etc. It were just some things that annoyed me. Reviews or whatever are always welcome~ I'll try my best to get the next chapter out a bit faster.**

* * *

"Oh hockey pucks..." Matthew cursed under his breath as he stood before the gate of the rose park. He had forgotten to take the umbrella with him in his excitement of meeting Francis again. He checked the time on his phone. It was almost 5 pm. He couldn't go back to get it now. It would take half an hour to go from rose park to his house and back. Francis could arrive at any moment now. He sighed and leaned against the fence.

_"Bonjour mon chéri."_ The smiling Frenchman said as he appeared before Matthew. _"How are you today?"_

Matthew jumped up slightly. He had been standing there with his eyes closed for a few minutes and hadn't expected Francis to suddenly appear before him.

"I'm fine, and you?" Matthew sighed. He felt so nervous yet so calm at the same moment. Nervous because he didn't want to screw this up. Calm because, well, he didn't knew why he felt calm. Maybe it was because the park had this relaxing atmosphere, or the gentle weather? Or maybe Francis' presence...

_"I'm very happy, especially now I see you again."_ Francis winked at him and placed a kiss on his hand, just like he did when they first met. Matthew blushed a bit. Had Francis really felt it necessary to do that? Then the Frenchman smiled.

"_Shall we take a walk through the park?" _Matthew nodded but when he wanted to go he felt a big hand on his shoulder, making it impossible for him to walk away. He looked at Francis, who looked past him with a frown on his face. Then he was turned around by the hands of the stranger and locked into a big hug.

"_Matvey! It's been such a long time. How are you?"_ Matthew's eyes widened. The accent of the man. He couldn't really see him since he was almost being crushed... but, was this Ivan? He pushed himself away to look at the other. He was right. It was Ivan. He hugged him again. The man strongly smelled like vodka. What was he doing here? Five years ago Ivan had moved back to Russia. He had been Matthew's best and only friend in middle school. Back then the Canadian even had a small crush on the strange Russian. He had confessed, but Ivan hadn't liked him back, not that way. They stayed good friends after that though, Ivan hadn't found it weird or creepy. Which Matthew was really grateful for. They still had contact over mail. So Matthew was really surprised that his childhood friend had come to the country, without telling him.

"Ivan, what are you doing here? I thought you lived in Moscow now." Matthew took a step back and looked at the other again. He had a rather big suitcase with him. He probably was on a holiday or something like that.

"_I'm traveling the world. I lost something some months ago and now I'm searching for it." _Ivan smiled at him. Matthew frowned. Did he even want to know what, or probably who… he lost? _"And I noticed you standing here while I was searching for a place to sleep. What a coincidence, da?" _Then the Russian turned to Francis. _"Matvey, who's this?"_

Matthew turned around and looked at Francis. Oh crap, Francis. He almost forgot that he was here with Francis. This probably wouldn't leave a good impression by the Frenchman. Surprisingly enough, the Frenchman looked like he didn't mind at all. He shook Ivan's hand and introduced himself.

"_I am Francis Bonnefoy, it's a pleasure to meet you." _Ivan nodded and also introduced himself. Then he looked at Matthew.

"_Matvey, do you know a good but cheap hotel?"_ The Canadian thought for a bit. He didn't really know any of the hotels in his city. But he could let Ivan stay in his apartment. He didn't have a second bed, but he wouldn't mind sleeping on the floor. He had a camping mat so that wouldn't be a problem. His apartment might be a little small, but he was sure that if he would clean everything, it could fit.

"Uhm, if you want you can stay in my house for a while. I won't mind."

"_That would be great!"_ Ivan smiled and looked at him. The Russian still had the same childish smile.

Matthew looked around a bit. He didn't know what to do. Ivan probably wouldn't leave anymore. He chewed on his bottom lip. It had become a habit that he picked up from his work in the bookstore. He could take both of them to his house. Maybe he could make some pancakes for them. It didn't sound like such a bad idea...

"Francis, I'm going to show Ivan where my house is. But you can also come, of course. I can make pancakes for all of us, or something like that. If you want that. I'm sorry, eh…" He looked at the Frenchman. If it bothered the man he certainly didn't show it.

"_Non, I don't want interrupt your reuniting. However, I'll call you later. You still have my umbrella." _He said the last with a playful wink. _"Au revoir Matthieu, Ivan._" Francis made a small movement with his hand that probably was some sort of goodbye wave.

"Eh, yeah. Goodbye." Matthew waved at the Frenchman and then turned around to face Ivan.

"It's just a half hour walk from here to my house, or would you like to take a cab?"

"_Walking is fine." _The Russian picked up his suitcase again and waited until Matthew started to walk. While they were walking they talked about all kind of things. It turned out that Ivan had met this Chinese man in Russia. The man, Ivan called him Yao-Yao but Matthew assumed that it was just Yao, was a merchant that travelled around the world to sell all kind of Chinese products. From what Matthew had heard it didn't really sound like a job that fits in the modern days, and he also wondered where Yao would get this 'inexhaustible' provision of Chinese stuff if he just travelled around without going back to China once a while. But Ivan didn't know about that and just said that Yao's business was going rather well because people found it amusing and kind of special. So the Chinese had stayed in Ivan's city for a while. And Ivan probably had started to get feelings for the man. Though he didn't exactly tell Matthew that. However, when Yao had left to go sell in the other cities, Ivan had started to follow him. And now he was standing here. In Canada. Because that was where Yao would have been last seen. Ivan hadn't told Matthew that he would be coming to Canada, simply because he hadn't known that he would go to the country. Matthew found it a rather weird idea that the Russian would go travel a world to search for someone. It seemed that Ivan had been running from country to country for over half a year now. He had asked why his friend hadn't just called the Chinese to talk to him, instead of stalking him and throwing money around. But Ivan said that he had lost the phone number. Matthew also wondered where Ivan got all that money from, but the Russian didn't want to tell that and avoided the subject. All in all, Matthew found it a bit of a hopeless project.

He sighed as he opened the door of his apartment. "It's still a bit of a mess, but I'll clean it up soon." He let Ivan go in first and after he closed the door he saw the Russian looking down at Kumajiro.

"_So you still have that bear."_ Ivan tried to pet him but the small bear growled at him and he pulled back his hand. _"He doesn't seem to like me very much." _He said with a sad face.

"Don't worry, he just has to get used to your scent, hopefully." Matthew hung up his jacket and walked to his living room, with Ivan behind him. He pointed at his 'bed'. "You'll sleep on the couch, don't worry, it's actually a bed. I just have to unfold it." Ivan nodded.

"_Okay, but where do you sleep?"_

Matthew scratched the back of his head. "I'll sleep on the ground. I've got a camping mat so it's no problem."

"_Ah, thank you for letting me stay here." _Ivan smiled at him, and Matthew noticed that he really hadn't changed a bit.

~

Francis sighed as he handed the umpteenth hotdog to a lousy customer. He gave the man his change and watched him walk away. Then he leaned with his hand on the work table, but immediately pulled his arm away. He had placed his hand in a spot that was drenched with mustard and other food which he wasn't sure of what it exactly was. The Frenchman shook his head in disgust and washed his hands. Michelle probably had left that there. He really didn't understand why his boss ever had employed her. Probably because she was a student and thus rather cheap to hire. But still! She could at least clean up her workplace after she was done with her shift. It wasn't rare that Francis would stand on food. And it didn't amuse him, it even had ruined his shoes once. Michelle also could barely fry the fries well. The Frenchman didn't mind her though, she was a horrible colleague, but fun to talk with. And rather stubborn. He hummed a little song that he always had loved as child as he cleaned up the mustard.

He looked up at the clock. Just one hour and he would meet his friends at the bar. It had been a while since he had seen either Antonio or Gilbert. He smiled as he remembered the things they did when they were still teenagers. They had giving their parents quite some heart attacks, he was sure. He chuckled as he turned around to help another customer.


End file.
